Tomb Raider: Aftermath
by Bea Cavendish
Summary: Told from Lara's point of view after the events of Underworld and the discovery of the fate of her mother. Lara must come to terms with her knowledge, her friends and enemies, and herself.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

"_If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear…"_

The jolt as I landed on the ground sent a shock of pain through my hands and forearms. It was cold—freezing, even, and the grunt I gave as I slammed onto the rock floor formed a frozen mist that hung in the air in front of me.

A moan reminded me of the presence of another. Amanda. I pulled myself to my feet and wiped my hands on my pants. Amanda was pulling herself to her feet, too, favoring her damaged leg. By the time I bent to retrieve the sword, she had risen to her feet, her hand glowing where it gripped her pendant.

"So it's back to this, is it?" I asked coolly, my breath rising in front of me as my fingers clenched the sword.

"What?" Amanda spat. "You think we're even?"

I slid the sword onto my back. "Would killing me make us even?"

She didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment before turning to limp away. I hesitated, looking around the scene. It was Nepal; I'd been here more than twenty years ago as a child, and more recently as an adult looking for clues about my mother. Now I knew the terrible truth.

I knelt to pick up a few pieces of brown paper and, a moment later, recognized them as the drawings I had made all those years ago on the airplane. A cold fist, more icy than the frigid air in this temple, gripped my heart and for a moment I would have given anything to be back here, as a child. I could have gone with Mother, we could've worked together, survived Helheim…

But no. "Goodbye, Mother," I said as I turned to walk away from the altar. I knew that that would have devastated my father, and I would have likely suffered the same fate as my mother. And though nothing could be worse than the realization that my mother had become a Thrall, I knew that my father would have been tormented even worse if he had no hope of knowing what might have happened to us.

"Rest in peace," I said, and walked away.

* * *

Katmandu was largely unchanged from when I had first wandered into it as a little girl. I strode purposefully up the main road and pushed my way into a bar. The bartender looked up, somewhat surprised because it was early afternoon—too early to be drinking. "Excuse me," I said politely. "May I use your telephone?"

"Local?" he asked, his foreign tongue little more than a grunt.

"I'm afraid not," I replied. "I'll call collect."

"Okay," the bartender said with a smile. He'd lost teeth since I saw him last.

I dialed Zip's cell phone collect and, when he had accepted the charges, I said, "Zip, it's Lara."

"Where are you?" he demanded. "Are you all right?"

"I'm—alive. I'm in Nepal," I said.

"Nepal? How in the hell—you were in the Arctic Sea a few hours ago!"

I grit my teeth and said, "It's a long story, but what I really need now is a ride. How soon can you get a helicopter up here?"

"Give me two hours."

"Thanks, Zip. I'll call you in a few hours."

* * *

"…so when you got there, your mother was just…"

"Yes," I said, staring into the fire. We were at Croft Keep, the castle my family owned in Scotland. It was usually kept up by the National Trust, but since the destruction of Croft Manor we had been able to move in. Zip, Winston and I were sitting in the cold, unfamiliar hall in front of a fire. "She was a thrall. When I was in Mexico, the thralls tried to kill me or, if they could, throw me into the eitr. I can only imagine that's what happened to Mother."

"Lady Croft, I'm terribly sorry," said Winston, his voice trembling with emotion. "Your father always thought…but he was right, wasn't he? The disappearance didn't kill her."

"Yes," I said dully. And the thought that had occurred to me so often in the past day resurfaced. How long had she survived? If Father and I had moved faster, could we have got there before Mother met her fate? I cleared my throat to relieve the lump growing there and looked up at Winston. "Father was right."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Winston asked.

"Have you found any of Alistair's family?" I stood and went to the sidebar to pour myself a cup of tea. "The funeral arrangements…?"

"There seems to be no living family," said Winston.

Zip interjected: "I've looked all over, Lara. I would've found them by now. The police want to release the body—he listed me as his next of kin."

I glanced over at Zip and offered him what I thought was a comforting smile. "What do you…Winston and I can help with arrangements, if you like."

"Thanks. I found his family crypt in Surrey—not far from the Manor, as a matter of fact."

I nodded and turned to Winston. "You'll make travel and lodging arrangements?" I asked. He nodded deferentially. "Thank you, Winston. I'm going to the library. Let me know when we leave."


	2. One

**ONE**

**St. Agnes Church, Surrey**

"…dust to dust."

The priest finished his eulogy and signaled for a group of teenage boys forward. They would serve as pallbearers since Zip, Winston and I were in no fit state to carry Allister's coffin. As the coffin passed us, we rose and walked into the aisle behind it, Zip limping slightly.

I was looking at the ground, willing myself not to cry. All I could see was the dark slacks I wore, the black shoes, the fringe of my black trench coat. I wasn't paying attention to anything but following Allister to his final resting place. That's why I nearly shouted when Zip grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

I looked up to see a solitary figure in the back pew, head bowed under a black hat. The head raised, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "Amanda?" I demanded, my hands groping for my pistols. But it was no use, they were still stashed in my hotel room.

Amanda Evert rose, holding her hands, clad in black leather driving gloves, up to show that she was unarmed and non-threatening. "Hello, Lara," she said quietly.

"What do you want?" demanded Zip.

She ignored Zip and looked directly at me. "Can I have a word?"

I hesitated and then glanced at Zip. "Go," I said, nodding out into the overcast, drizzly morning where the pallbearers were carrying the coffin towards the graveyard. "I'll be right behind you."

"Do be careful, Lady Croft," said Winston nervously.

Amanda flinched as Zip reached into his jacket and withdrew a snub-nosed revolver. He held it for a few moments, looking at Amanda. But finally he handed it over to me. "Just in case."

Zip and Winston withdrew their umbrellas and stepped into the rain, leaving Amanda and I alone. I turned back to her. "What do you want?" I asked coldly.

"I heard Fletcher's funeral was today," she said as she stood and smoothed her fur-trimmed coat. "I came to pay my respects."

"How dare you?" I gasped incredulously. "You killed him! I should phone the police right now."

Amanda tried to smile, but then sighed, her face crumbling. "Lara, please. If you think your friend, Zip, hasn't called the police already, you're out of your mind. I'm not worried about the authorities." She paused, then a smirk came to her lips. "Besides. I didn't kill him. You did."

"I didn't!" Lara protested.

"Your own security system shows you doing it," Amanda said. "Your evidence may have kept you out of trouble, but they'll know that it certainly wasn't me. Aren't dopplegangers _fun_?"

"Why are you here?" I asked, rapidly reaching the end of my patience.

"I told you," Amanda snapped. "I came to pay my respects. And…to apologize. I didn't mean for him to get hurt. It was always you."

"Allister was collateral damage?" I asked angrily. "You're a cold-blooded murderer, why should I believe you?"

"I'm a cold-blooded murderer?" Amanda echoed with a cold laugh. "And how are you different?" I raised an eyebrow, wondering what she meant. "Have you forgotten about Larson? What about James?"

"Larson and Rutland were _different_," I said. "They stood in my way. Larson was helping Natla and Rutland was helping you. He tried to kill me!"

"Allister was helping you," Amanda countered.

"I was working for good," I insisted. "You just wanted the power."

"We both wanted to go to Avalon," Amanda sneered. "And look where we ended up: Helheim. You call what happened there good? Natla almost killed us and destroyed the world as we know it."

I clutched the pew, feeling sick. Was I the same as Amanda? Had my actions justified Allister's death, by my own perverse rationalization?

"Good and evil are relative terms, Lara," Amanda said gently. "We humans are imperfect beings, aren't we? We try to do the right thing with the limited perspective we have, but…well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

I was quiet for a long time before I finally looked over at her again. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about Rutland."

"I'll see him again someday," Amanda said with a sigh. I didn't know what to tell her, and she senses my discomfort. "Oh Lara. Even after everything, you still don't believe?"

"Believe what?" I asked.

"Avalon."

I shook my head. "I've been there, Amanda." I remembered my mother—no, she wasn't, she couldn't be!—lurching towards me. "Trust me, I believe."

"That was Helheim," Amanda said dismissively.

"They're the same th…" I said, but Amanda cut across me.

"Helheim can't be Avalon. Natla must have lied. She lied to both of us. We were pawns to her scheme," Amanda said. "That wasn't Avalon. Avalon was a reward. Who would ever want to go to that frozen wasteland?"

"Does it matter?" I asked bitterly. "That's all there is."

"No," said Amanda simply.

"What?"

"No. The proto-norse myths were inspired by, maybe even translations of earlier myths."

"I've never heard of any of this," I said doubtfully.

"You've never heard of Atlantis?" she asked.

I chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. I blew Atlantis up years ago, when I first encountered Natla—before you so helpfully dug her up again."

"You think that was Atlantis? I was there, Lara, when we excavated it. It was—well, it was a fascinating site, but it wasn't _the_ Atlantis. It was a factory, not a civilization. And it was Natla's."

"Qualopec and Tihocan and Natla each had their own island?" I asked quizzically. Despite myself, I was curious.

"I don't know, it didn't say," Amanda said. "But Natla's fascination with creating an army of beasts to throw down the other god-kings was what got her thrown down herself. Natla would've tried to hide it as long as she could. So it makes sense that she found another island."

"How do you know all this?"

Amanda's hands went to her coat's collar and pulled it open. The black stone necklace lay across her chest. "Amanda, no!" I said, instinctively stepping back.

"Relax," she said, reaching up to pull it off the choker she wore. She extended it to me. "Take it. It won't hurt you."

I took it and examined it for a few moments. "So?"

"Recognize the skull?"

I turned it over and looked down at the skull for a moment. I was immediately reminded of Thailand. "Yes. It looks like the one on the door to Thor's gauntlet in Thailand. And to the caves in the Arctic Sea." I looked up. "Are you saying that this stone is part of the earlier, proto-Norse civilization?"

"Obviously," said Amanda, reaching for the stone. I handed it back. "Atlantean, too."

"How can you tell?"

"It shows me things. The creation of the triumvirate—the early days, you could say. I think, in addition to showing me how to control the smoke monster, it stores information."

"Like the Scion?"

Amanda nodded. "Perhaps an earlier version. A prototype." She clipped the rock back to her choker and closed her coat back up.

I looked at her for a moment, my eyebrows furrowed. Finally I said, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because it's not too late," Amanda said simply, and with that, she began walking towards the door.

"Amanda, wait," I called, walking after her. But she just ducked into the backseat of the car that was waiting for her, and was gone. I turned, saw a small business piece of paper on the ground, the size of a business card. I crouched to pick it up. A set of coordinates was on one side. I turned it over.

A note read: _It's not too late._


End file.
